Last Summer (6 page)

“I don’t know if you know this about me,” George said in an overly loud, dramatic voice that attracted the attention of the nicely dressed family of four ahead of them. They were taking, in Beth’s opinion, far too much time trying to sink their golf balls into the concrete clown face.

“Why are you yelling?” Beth asked mildly, swinging her mini golf club. She smiled sweetly at the family of four, as if she, too, was baffled by George and his volume.

“I don’t know if you know this,” George repeated in a fractionally lower voice, “but this past year has stripped me of my charming veneer.”

“Yeah?” She started to say
what charming veneer?
but thought better of it. They were trying to be friends, after all.

“At any second, I might unleash the inner demon on that family. I’m just letting you know.”

Beth eyed him. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“My pleasure.”

Idiot,
Beth thought. But it was a fond sort of thought. So far the whole
friends
thing was going okay. It was almost like old, old times.

It was a sunny, breezy summer day—far too beautiful to waste back in the cabins. Beth turned her head so she could see across the mini golf course to the stretch of ocean on the other side of the street.

Beth sometimes wondered what the ridiculous Circus-themed golf course must look like from out in the water, particularly at night when she knew the clown’s face, for example, was so hideously lit that it looked creepy and alive. She didn’t think she’d ever taken a trip this far up the coast at night. Or maybe she had and had forgotten to look when she was out there enjoying the crisp sea air and the roll of the waves. She wondered if it was possible to see the dancing bears or the truly disturbing clown from out there. The fact that she had no memory of even noticing the mini golf course from the water indicated that probably there was nothing to see. For some reason, Beth found that a little bit depressing.

The family finally vacated the hole, and George stepped into place.

“I’m glad we’re not together anymore, Beth,” George
announced, smacking his golf ball with a clean, neat stroke and sending it directly into the clown’s horrible grinning mouth. It looked like something out of Stephen King. Beth shuddered.

“Because you completely choked on that last hole,” George continued with unmistakable glee in his voice, “and as your friend, I can be delighted about it.”

“I’m glad we’re broken up, too,” Beth retorted. “Since we’re no longer dating, I don’t have to let you win.”

George gasped in fake shock, and Beth hid her answering smile. Then she concentrated on making her shot, because she knew she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t.

And also because she was Beth Tuttle and—she could admit it—she hated to lose. She had the usual athlete’s approach to any and all competitions. And admitting she had a problem was the first step, she thought with a smirk.

“You have never in your life
let
me do anything!” George was protesting.

Beth tuned him out, a skill she hadn’t lost in the months since they’d last spent time together.

And then she made her shot. One stroke. Clean and neat. Perfect.

She whooped with joy and jumped into the air.

“In your face!” she cried at him. “So much for being the Tiger Woods of mini golf!”

“That was luck,” George complained. “Total luck. I am way better than you at mini golf. Our entire history proves it. This was luck!”

“Call it whatever you want,” Beth said, and let herself swagger a little bit as she headed off the mini golf course toward the new, improved complex, which now included a bowling alley and arcade. For all your Pebble Beach recreational needs.

She was glad George had called a few days ago, and suggested this outing, she thought as she made her way out of the complex. It felt ridiculously easy to be around him. Without consciously meaning to, she felt as if they’d rewound somehow. As if they were good friends again, before all that romantic stuff had come between them and ruined everything.

They wandered out into the parking lot, where the afternoon was lengthening into shadows.

“That was fun,” George said. His dark eyes met hers, and he smiled. “You’re still fun.”

“You, too,” Beth said.

By prior arrangement, they’d met at the mini golf course, so there was a small moment of awkwardness as they said good-bye, but then they each headed their separate ways. George took off in his car, and Beth headed through the woods on foot.

Beth stretched her legs as she walked, breathing in the
piney scent of the path in front of her and feeling light, happy. She zipped up her hoodie against the coolness of the shaded woods, shoved her hands into her jean pockets, and smiled to herself.

Her cousins had all counseled her against hanging out with George. They’d warned her that it was a big fantasy to think they could be friends again when they’d once been so much more. Beth had worried they were right, but she’d gone to mini golf, anyway, because she’d wanted to test out their theories for herself. She’d expected it to be a little bit upsetting, and maybe tense, too.

But it had been really good, Beth thought. Who said you couldn’t hang out with your first love?

What did her cousins know?

Apparently, more than she did, Beth thought a few days later as she arranged her towel in the sand. Because she’d forgotten that first loves tended to be annoying. Supremely annoying.

Or, anyway, the George variety did.

Had he always been so demanding and weird about where he wanted to sit on the beach? Beth racked her brain, and couldn’t come up with a single instance during which he’d ever cared in the slightest.

Which made his theatrics on the beach today all the more irritating.

Possibly he’d done it to impress his friend Dean, whom he’d brought with him today, although Beth couldn’t imagine why Dean would find childish tantrums impressive in the least. She threw a dirty look at George.

“Stop giving me that look,” George ordered from his sprawled position on the towel next to Beth’s, with his huge sunglasses wrapped around the entire upper half of his narrow face.

“You can’t see where I’m looking,” Beth told him, and snorted. He looked ridiculous and, as far as she could tell, he probably couldn’t see at all.

“I can feel it,” George retorted. “Like a laser beam to the brain, in fact.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay with this spot,” Beth shot back. “Are we close enough to the water? Far enough from the trees? Near enough to the lifeguard stand? Far enough from all possible beach irritants, like horseflies and ten-year-old girls?”

“Because you love to sit next to screaming ten-year-old girls yourself?” George argued. “I guess I forgot.”

“You’re a beach snob,” Beth pronounced, almost as if it made her sad. “Have you looked around? Every inch of this beach is gorgeous. You might try appreciating it, instead of freaking out and making us move seventy-five times.”

“We moved exactly
one
time,” George protested.

“Oh, right, my mistake.” Beth looked at him over the
top of her own sunglasses. “The forty minutes we trudged up and down the beach, practically from Portland to Bar Harbor and back again, must have shorted out my brain.”

“It would have taken a lot less time if you’d
helped
,” George shot back at her. “But no, you thought it would be better to stomp along behind, making snide remarks.”

“It’s not a snide remark if it’s
true
,” Beth pointed out. “You were being ridiculous.” She paused and cocked her head to one side. “See? Still not snide!”

George’s jaw tightened and Beth felt a sudden surge of anger herself. She
wanted
to fight with him, she realized. She
wanted
to be mean.

Which made her wonder if maybe neither one of them was actually mad about the beach.

“Wow,” commented Dean, raising himself up from George’s other side and looking from Beth to George and then back. It broke the spell, and Beth looked at Dean instead of George, feeling the heat of embarrassment on her cheeks. “Are you sure you’re broken up?” Dean added with a grin.

“Yes,” Beth snapped, and felt herself blush a little bit when she realized George had said it at exactly the same time, with exactly the same inflection.

We’re like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum
, she thought sourly.
Even after all this time.

“Why?” George asked his friend, scowling openly.

“Because you sound like an old married couple,” Dean
said in disgust. “I’m going to go jump in the water. The possibility of being sucked out to sea by the undertow sounds way better than listening to the two of you. I feel like I’m hanging out with my parents.”

“Great,” George said as Dean ran toward the water’s edge. “That’s just great.”

Beth said nothing. Pointedly.

“I don’t feel like an old married couple,” George continued, sounding aggrieved.

Without even meaning to, Beth snickered.

“I agree,” she said when he looked at her. “That definitely had a family feel to it, but more in a sibling sort of way.”

“Terrific,” George said, sounding peeved. “My ex-girlfriend has become my irritating sister.”

“You mean,
my
ex-boyfriend has become
my
annoying brother,” Beth retorted.

They looked at each other, and while they weren’t smiling, Beth could tell they were both finding the situation funny.

“Ew,” George said. “I’m going to swim, too.”

“Whatever.” Beth pulled her Tess Gerritsen thriller out of her beach bag and cracked it open. “Try not to drown.”

“I’ll do my best, thanks,” George replied, taking off his sunglasses. “And by the way, that sounded like my mother.”

Beth watched him walk toward the water, his long, pale
body and that lope of his she knew so well, and let out the laughter she’d been holding in.

Being friends might be tricky sometimes. But family?
That
she knew how to deal with.

This ex thing was going to be a snap.

“I’m really sorry, Kels,” Bennett told her again. “I just can’t leave town this weekend. Carlos is having this big party at the gallery and he’s freaking out. I have to stay here and deal with him.”

“It’s okay,” Kelsi said automatically, even though she felt like crying. She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I just wish I’d known a few days ago. I wouldn’t have loaned my car to Jamie.”

Kelsi had taken her cell phone back into the bedroom for this call, expecting Bennett to tell her he was on his way. Instead, he’d announced that once again, he wouldn’t be able to come up to Pebble Beach. Kelsi would have happily driven down to see him, but Jamie had left a few hours earlier
in Kelsi’s car to visit some friends down in Boston, and she wasn’t coming back until Sunday.

So that meant another long week ahead without the boy she wanted to kiss nonstop.

“Don’t be mad,” Bennett said into the phone. Kelsi could hear the concern in his voice, and she told herself to get it together.

“I’m not mad,” she told him. “Just disappointed.”

That was a good word for it, Kelsi thought after they’d said good-bye and hung up. But the truth was, it felt much worse than just
disappointment.
It felt like the air had gone out of the room.

Why did she feel like this? It didn’t make any sense. Kelsi knew that things were great with Bennett. She knew he loved her. She knew that he was just busy, and trying to do a good job for Carlos.

But why did her heart hurt?

“What’s the matter?” Taryn asked, breezing into the room. She was undressing while moving—flinging her hoodie toward her pile of clothes and stripping her black bikini from her torso.

“Bennett’s not coming up,” Kelsi said. She didn’t bother with trying to modify her tone. “Again.”

Taryn gave her a sideways look, and then went and pulled on a T-shirt.

“What?” Kelsi asked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Taryn replied. “Does he have to work again?”

“Some party,” Kelsi said. She could feel herself slumping on the bed. “It seems like Carlos’s idea of an assistant is more like a personal slave. I mean, this is Bennett’s summer vacation. You’d think he might get a weekend off every now and again.”

Kelsi expected Taryn to agree, and thought they might rant about the unfairness of it all for a while. But Taryn was messing around with her hair in the mirror, and she didn’t seem particularly inclined toward ranting.

“Well, that sucks for the two of you and your weekends,” Taryn said philosophically, “but that’s the job.”

It felt a lot like a rebuke. Kelsi frowned at her friend, confused.

“I know it’s the job,” she said.

“Kels, every time I talk to him, he’s, like, fully incapable of containing himself,” Taryn continued, her eyes meeting Kelsi’s in the mirror. “I’m talking full-on joy. He can’t stop going on about what an amazing experience he’s having. He gets to watch Carlos work—it’s beyond Bennett’s wildest dreams.”

Kelsi looked down. Why was Taryn saying all this like Kelsi didn’t know it?

“I understand how cool it is that he has the job,” she
murmured, staring at the phone in her hand. She felt very young all of a sudden.

“I’m going out,” Taryn said after a moment. When Kelsi looked up, she saw her roommate had pulled on a pair of skinny jeans. “Want to come?”

“Where are you going?” Kelsi asked, trying to pretend her feelings weren’t hurt.

“I don’t know,” Taryn said with a shrug. “I met some guys on the beach earlier. They said there was a party out by some freshwater lake. Are you up for it?”

“Not today,” Kelsi said, and summoned a smile. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” And if she let herself cry a little bit into her pillow where no one would hear, who would be any the wiser?

“Okay,” Taryn said. She walked toward the door, but stopped before walking out. “You know, he really does love this position, Kels. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

“I know,” Kelsi said. But she didn’t look at Taryn. “I just wish he was coming up this weekend.”

Taryn paused there for a moment, and it seemed like she might be about to say something, but then she set her mouth in a line and she walked away.

Leaving Kelsi to feel even worse.

Kelsi spent Friday night moping in her room, and then pretending to be asleep when Taryn staggered in just before
dawn. After finally drifting off, Kelsi got up feeling slightly better and wandered into the kitchen. It was lunchtime, and she figured she should eat something. She was surprised to find her sister already there.

“I thought you’d be at the beach,” Kelsi said, walking over to inspect the Brie and leftover filet mignon sandwich Ella was making.

“I was,” Ella said, wrinkling her tanned little nose. “But then I decided that I needed a Philly cheesesteak for lunch.”

Kelsi eyed Ella’s plate.

“I think that’s more Paris than Philly,” she said.

“What can I say?” Ella asked lazily, waving a hand in the air. “I’m so
Vogue
I bring it to my food.”

Kelsi smiled at that, and poured herself a glass from the pitcher of sun tea she and Taryn had made the day before. Then she settled herself across the table from Ella, and looked out the window. There were seashells and beach glass on the windowsill to catch the light, and out beyond the open screen, the fresh-cut grass and the woods. Everything was lush and green, with bees humming and the soothing sound of the surf in the distance.

Kelsi just wished she could love her surroundings as much as she had in previous, pre-Bennett summers. Now it was as if she could only see the world through the ache of missing him. It sucked.

“Are you okay?” Ella asked.

Kelsi blinked and turned her attention to her sister. Ella had her hair on the top of her head in a messy yet adorable ponytail, and her brown eyes were filled with concern. Kelsi realized that they hadn’t spent as much time together this summer as they normally did—something she’d be surprised Ella even noticed, now that she had a boyfriend.

“I’m fine,” Kelsi said.

“You don’t look fine,” Ella pointed out, licking cheese from her index finger. “You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

Kelsi made a face. “I don’t have a puppy.”

Ella looked at her for a long moment, as if she expected Kelsi to say something.

“What?” Kelsi finally asked.

“You can tell me what’s bothering you, you know,” Ella said.

But Kelsi couldn’t imagine telling Ella that she was this upset over something so incredibly minor. Because she knew it was minor. It was just a cancelled weekend—she and Bennett hadn’t broken up or anything. And Kelsi knew that Ella certainly wouldn’t mourn a cancelled weekend. In fact, she’d probably take the cancellation as an indication that she should head out and find a replacement.

So Kelsi shrugged.

“It’s nothing,” she said.

Ella looked down at her plate. “I thought Bennett was coming up this weekend.”

“He had to work,” Kelsi replied too quickly. She flushed when Ella glanced at her. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Is something going on with you guys?” Ella asked. Her eyes filled with sympathy. “Is it a sex issue, like with Tim?”

“What? No!” Kelsi cried, throwing a hand up as if to ward Ella off. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to yell at me,” Ella continued, her chin up. “It just seems like the last couple of times you were this upset, it was because of the virgin thing, that’s all.”

Kelsi gaped at Ella. She hadn’t realized until just that minute that she
hadn’t
told Ella that she and Bennett had slept together. Her sister still thought she was a virgin. And now that Ella had brought it up, Kelsi wondered if maybe the reason why she was missing Bennett this much was because they’d taken that step, and she felt so much closer to him than she had to anyone else. It was definitely something she hadn’t thought about before.

But how could she tell Ella any of this? First she would have to confess that, in fact, she’d lost her virginity. Then she would have to explain that she hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. And then she would have to confess to her wild, experienced younger sister—who in her pre-Jeremy days, had gone through boys the same way she went through new ringtones—that Kelsi was all messed up because she’d
finally had sex with her boyfriend. She knew exactly how many times she and Bennett had had sex, in fact (four). She was still counting. How could she tell Ella that? Didn’t that make her completely lame by default?

So she just shook her head.

“Really,” Kelsi said in a low voice, “everything’s fine.”

Ella’s eyes flashed with hurt, and Kelsi reconsidered—but then they both heard the sound of a large vehicle chugging up the dirt road. It was a FedEx truck, which was unusual enough to get both sisters out of their chairs and to the front door.

“Kelsi Tuttle?” the delivery man asked when he climbed down from his high perch behind the wheel.

Kelsi ran across the lawn in her bare feet, flinching a little because the grass was still damp, and signed for the slim package.

“What is it?” Ella asked when Kelsi walked back into the cottage.

“I have no idea,” Kelsi said.

She ripped open the package and pulled out a single sheet of eight by eleven paper. On it was a sketch of a girl with short brown hair, lying on her side, asleep.

“Hey,” Ella said, delight in her voice. “That’s you!”

Kelsi remembered waking up in Bennett’s bed the morning after their magical moonlit horse-drawn carriage ride to find him sitting on the floor, sketching her.

You’re just so beautiful
, he’d told her.

Kelsi opened the card that came with the drawing. It was short and sweet:

I
WISH YOU WERE HERE
.

And suddenly Kelsi knew that everything really
was
fine. Distance was only miles. Everything else was in her head. She had to figure out how to be okay with what she knew to be true: They were in love. This was just temporary.

Deep in her heart, she believed it.

“Finish your lunch,” she told Ella. “I want to go swimming.”